


Black Ink

by MakeMeEmperor



Category: Black Clover - 田畠裕基 | Tabata Yuki
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anime Spoilers, Demonic Possession, Gen, Manga Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 08:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12077784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeMeEmperor/pseuds/MakeMeEmperor
Summary: Anti-magic is not as simple as Asta thought. Now he'll pay for such a foolish idea.





	Black Ink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [booksindalibrary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksindalibrary/gifts).



The forest was a place where Asta could relax. The trees were his friends, the breeze cooled his body after a workout. The birds sang their songs and accepted his flaws. Nature didn't care of his magic-less self; only fickle humans dictated what was and what wasn't correct. Nature just existed, and Asta existed with it.

The forest was a safe place, but now Asta thought it wasn't.

Asta has done many things in his life - he's fought and bled for those he cared about, he's languished in his own misery and bounced back, he's been consumed by his jealousy and his anger. Death was common on the battlefield. If one asks for war, then they must accept death as their cost.

One does not kill in cold blood. The nun told him that. But her words came too late to Asta.

He stood over the body, knowing it was not done _in cold blood._ His own hatred had driven it. The demon inside of him had egged him on. The cursed sword mocked him. The entire world had collided around him and lead him to this.

This, Asta pondered, his rage settling down and pooling in the bottom of his stomach. Now he studied the corpse with cool eyes. A broken body, bludgeoned by the massive anti-magic sword. His opponent had tried to defend themselves, but he had charged through the magic without a scratch and struck him over the head. He had kept going, striking downwards over and over again.

The blood had poured out. Like a fountain of youth, Asta had thought, now half-mad with blood lust.

Asta inspected the blade, wiping it off on his opponent's clothes. "Good," he said flatly. "That went well." He shoved his sword back into the grimoire, and the world sharpened suddenly.

Asta stumbled drunkenly, retching at the smell of blood and the sudden freedom his body now experienced. He hadn't noticed the weight in his body previously, or the bitter taste in his mouth. But now that the blood-crazed fog was gone from his mind, he was left to deal with the aftermath. A corpse to dispose of, blood to clean, and the sinking feeling that he had done something unforgivable.

The body was unexpectedly heavy. Maybe Asta was just unwilling to move it. The birds were watching him, now silent. He was being judged by nature, the one entity he thought would never do such a thing.

Why move the body? Asta dropped the corpse suddenly, ready to take out his anti-magic sword to use as a shovel. He could just bury it. Cover his crime with dirt.

He clasped his grimoire in his hands, hesitant. Would the power take over again? It was too likely. The book was throbbing in his hands. It was a plea to be opened, and Asta relented. It may not happen again.

He drew the sword, and black ink crawled up his arms without command. Asta froze, hating the cold liquid scaling his body all too quickly. His arms moved without his say, digging a ditch effortlessly. He kicked the corpse in, then shoveled the bloody clumps in after it.

Asta expected the demon to leave. The body was gone, he reasoned. The demon refused to move. Panic swelled in Asta, pushing back against the ink. (He didn't know what to call it - it couldn't be magic, surely.)

The black substance stretched up his neck. Asta demanded his body move to fight, but his hands were trapped, fingers curled tightly around the sword hilt. His feet felt as though anchors were tied to them.

The black substance kept surging up, until his vision was blocked. Asta couldn't breathe, he couldn't blink, he could do nothing but wait for death to embrace him.

Asta sank into nothingness.

* * *

The demon took on Asta's name. Said demon blinked at his reflection in the pond, tilting his to the side. A human form would do, he supposed, until he found a better one. The black substance was gone as well. He looked like a normal boy.

The only thing to betray him was his eyes. If one peered deep enough into them, they would witness black flames flickering inside. 'Asta' abandoned the Black Bulls, stripping himself of their symbol neatly. he had no use for human ties. The humans would soon be deceased regardless.

He had allies in this as well. Fellow demons that had long since been locked away by the Sorcery Emperor.

He hissed air through his teeth. The _Sorcery Emperor._ How he loathed that man, who sentenced their king to death. Humans were so arrogant, not to be trusted. They foolishly waved around their magic without understanding. Even the boy whose body he inhabited was stupid enough to idolize the magic. (The demon only tolerated the boy due to his magic-less state.)

One with magic would be able to detect him. The current Sorcery Emperor - Julius, the demon thought - had sensed him in the capital. He would be difficult to defeat.

And the one with wind magic? A spirit accompanied him. The demon hissed again, even more enraged. The spiritual world turned against them so quickly. The demons had ruled, and now they were nothing.

'Asta' would correct that. Foolish mistakes must be made clear.

* * *

Diamond Kingdom was poverty-stricken. The demon almost felt pity for the people.

Beggars watched him past with silent, gaunt eyes. The humans were all wearing rags. A distinct lack of young men and women as well. Carted off to war, the demon thought. He idly considered killing the king, but decided that would create a martyr. It would not suit.

"Young man?" An old lady was calling for him. The demon must pretend to be normal.

"Yes, ma'am?" 'Asta' turned.

The old studied him. "Would you like to come in for some tea?"

"No, thank you." Asta kept moving, just about gliding away.

"Demon." The woman's voice dropped to a hiss, expression unchanged. Asta paused, swiveling on his heel.

"You know who I am?" The demon studied her more closely.

The old woman smiled at him again. "Would you like some tea?"

This time, Asta accepted.

He ducked through the front door, following after the woman. The inside was disorganized, piles of clothing scattered at random intervals. Books were shoved in the most awkward of places, leaving Asta to step over them, careful not to damage property.

The woman poured the demon a cup and handed it over. "Biscuit?"

"No, thank you."

The woman smiled vacantly, plopping down opposite him.

"How did you know?" Asta watched her as he took a sip from his cup.

"Sensory magic. I'm a seer. I see these things, dear. It's my job." The woman folded her hands on the table. "I suppose you will destroying humanity."

"After freeing my demon brothers," Asta agreed.

"I'm sure you will be stopped."

A pause. "Fate is fate," Asta said slowly. "There is little I may do to change it."

The woman still smiled. "What's your name? Your real one."

Asta set down his cup. "If I tell you, I would have to swear you to silence."

"I will break that oath."

Asta smirked. "I am Astaroth."

"One of the pillars of the demon king?" The woman did not seem surprised. "Humanity is indeed in despair, then."

Asta smiled tightly, finishing his tea. "Will you direct me to my brother?"

"Certainly not," the woman said primly.

"I thought so." Asta stood. "I thank you for the tea, but I must be going."

"I would wish you luck, but you are an enemy," the woman called after him. Asta turned to look at her for one last time.

"My thanks. Even such a consideration is enough." The demon Astaroth left the house of the old woman, baffled by her perceptiveness. He soon shoved it out of his mind and set out to free his comrades.


End file.
